


Puzzlebox

by emmaliza



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: (kinda?), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bets & Wagers, Episode: s04e06 Headhunter, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Isolation, Light Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Quarantine, Seduction, Teasing, smut and humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: AU from "Headhunter". Tarrant and Vila are trapped in quarantine a lot longer, and play a game to pass the time.
Relationships: Vila Restal/Del Tarrant
Kudos: 8





	Puzzlebox

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kinkmeme prompt: "AU of 'Headhunter'. Vila and Tarrant are in quarantine, but the psycho robot doesn't turn off the life support. So they just sit around with nothing to do..... and then the do each other." Less topical than you might expect, really.

“I'm bored.”  
  
“We're both bored, Vila,” Tarrant sighs in frustration, tapping his knuckles against the console. He'd thought being trapped alone with Vila on Scorpio was difficult before, but at least then they had being flying, and he'd had something to do. Now they are stuck hovering in dead space, doing nothing, waiting for Avon to solve the problem – which he will inevitably be insufferable about afterwards, no doubt. It is as close as Tarrant can imagine to hell. “What do you expect me to do about it?”  
  
Vila shrugs. “There must be something here we can do. Fancy a game?”  
  
“With what?” Cards, chess, all that is back at base. No doubt the others are having a jolly good time while waiting to rescue them. “Face it, there's nothing here for us but each other.”  
  
Out of nowhere, Vila perks up. “Now there's a thought.”  
  
“What is?”  
  
“Doing each other.” Tarrant just about manages not to choke on his own tongue. “I admit, you're not my usual type, but you've got nice hair and I've been in and out of prison enough times to learn you can't be picky. So how about it?”  
  
Tarrant gawps at him a few seconds, desperately trying to deduce whether he's kidding or not. In any case, the answer is the same. “No.”  
  
Vila frowns. “Why not?”  
  
There are a lot of possible answers there, but the one Tarrant comes up with is: “Because I want to respect myself in the morning.”  
  
With a chuckle, Vila shrugs it off. “Hey now, I'm not the love 'em or leave 'em type.” _Kerril might say otherwise_. “I promise, I'll be very gentle with you. Treat you like a princess. God knows you can act like one sometimes.”  
  
“That's not quite what I meant,” Tarrant hisses through gritted teeth, half-hoping Vila will let this absurd idea drop and half-hoping he'll keep pursuing it. It is, if nothing else, a more entertaining conversation than they've had since they were locked up here.  
  
Vila tilts his head at him curiously. “You don't have to play innocent with me, you know,” he says. “I've heard what you boys at the FSA get up to. And a boy as pretty as you – I imagine you were very popular there, weren't you?”  
  
Despite himself, Tarrant can't help grinning. “Yes, I was,” he says, a few fond memories he's not going to share coming back to him. “And I was also very good at making sure nothing happened if I didn't want it to.”  
  
“Which means whatever happened, you wanted it?” Damn. Vila had seen through him easily. He will have to keep reminding himself the man isn't as stupid as he seems.  
  
Tarrant sighs. It's probably proof that isolation is already taking a toll on his sanity, that he's even discussing this, but... “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?” he asks. “I never even thought you liked me, let alone _liked_ me – to put it childishly.”  
  
“Professional pride,” Vila grins again. “I can open any lock. Including the one on your knickers.”  
  
Tarrant laughs. “I doubt that,” he says, to Vila's mildly offended expression. Then he considers. Alright, he's not actually going to have sex with Vila, things aren't that desperate, but perhaps...  
  
“Alright,” he says, and Vila blinks in surprise. He doesn't seem to have been expecting acquiescence. “I'll sleep with you. One one condition.” He gets to his feet.  
  
A touch of nerves enters Vila's voice. “What's that, then?”  
  
Tarrant grins at him. “That you _earn_ it.”  
  
He paces from behind the pilot's console (not that he has anything to pilot, but he sat there automatically, by instinct) to the front of the room, smiling to himself all the while. He can feel Vila's eyes following him, bemused.  
  
“What's that supposed to mean, then?”  
  
He turns his head to see Vila's followed him, hovering about his shoulder and he grins wider. “I'm not the type who'll spread my legs for just anyone, you know,” he says, then leans in tauntingly close to whisper in Vila's ear. “Seduce me. Convince me you're better company than my own hand.”  
  
Then he walks away. Vila need not know how impossible his quest is – Tarrant doubts he's taking this at all seriously anyway, and it will be fun to watch him try. A game, that's all it is. Like Vila said, they have to do _something_.

* * *

Vila sighs. Leave it to Tarrant to make this harder than it has to be – everything has to be a competition with him, and excuse to prove what a brave and dashing pilot he is, far too good for the likes of Vila. Can't be just two friends helping each other out because there's no-one else around – since when have he and Tarrant ever been friends?

Maybe he should just let it go. He was half-joking when he suggested it anyway – mostly because he thought he knew Tarrant would never agree. He wasn't expecting even this conditional encouragement, even though he's pretty sure Tarrant is just teasing him.

Except. He eyes the box on the console, taunting him with its mechanism that would be perfectly easy to undo, except for how it keeps trying to kill them whenever he tries. Like he said, he hates a locked box, and Tarrant is a locked box that whispered in his ear half his combination, assuming he was much too stupid to figure out the rest.

_Oh, I'll unlock you, Tarrant,_ thinks Vila. _And when I do, you'll be begging for my key._

Well, that settles that then. Now he comes to the more important question: how?  


* * *

“Vila, what happened to my shirt?”

Vila raises his eyebrows, the picture of innocence, but he doesn't stop himself eyeing Tarrant's bare chest shamelessly. He's in good shape, you have to hand him that – he should be, for all he exercises near-obsessively. Still, Vila approves of the results, his skin peachy and baby-smooth, muscles gently sculpted into his abdomen. For a second, Vila wonders if he's biting off more than he can chew.

“I have no idea,” he lies, not terribly convincingly, and Tarrant chuckles. At least he's enjoying this game, then.

“Right. And I am to believe that my shirt disappearing, when I am trapped alone with a colleague who happens to be a master thief, who has already declared his intent to seduce me, is pure coincidence?” Technically, it was Tarrant who dared Vila to seduce him, but now doesn't seem like the time to be a pedant. “Your idea of seduction lacks a certain degree of subtlety.”

“ _Master_ thief, am I?” Vila doesn't really go in for that sort of thing, not most of the time anyway, but he's not going to pass up a perfectly good innuendo when it's been offered him. “And I never thought you were the type to go for subtlety. Was I wrong?” He gives Tarrant's bare skin another shameless look. “Always thought you must have an exhibitionist streak.”

That might be too much, that might make Tarrant realise what he's gotten himself into and start backing down in a panic (a course of action Vila is usually sympathetic to, admittedly). But he just raises an eyebrow, bemused. “What gave you that idea?”

He shrugs. “Well you're such a show-off the rest of the time,” he says. “Why should you be any different in bed?”

Tarrant grins. “Quite.” Vila grins in return, hoping he'll get some more flirting from it, but he's disappointed. “My shirt, Vila?”

Vila sighs, reaching to open the compartment where he hid it. “Here,” he says. Though he doesn't know why Tarrant wants it; since they didn't come here expecting to be onboard for multiple days, their clothes are going to have to come off to be put through Scorpio's rudimentary laundry system at some point (which Vila is not looking forward to; he swears that thing is going to blow and kill them all some day), or they are going to start to stink to high heaven. Which would not aid in this seduction plan, come to think of it.

“I don't suppose you'd make a show of putting it on for me?” he asks as Tarrant presses it to his chest, and Tarrant pauses before smiling again.

“Afraid not,” he says. “But who knows, if you ask nicely, I might just put on a show when it's time to take it off again.”

Vila watches as he walks off (they've agreed to keep the rest of the ship pressurised, since it's not like they're going anywhere), eyeing a mole in the small of his back, just above his waistband. Then he remembers – Tarrant always insists on keeping a change of clothing in the back, in case of emergencies. There was no need for him to come wandering onto the flight deck without a shirt on at all.

_See, I was right,_ Vila grins to himself. _Clearly an exhibitionist. And clearly, he's playing to win._

* * *

“Come have a drink, Tarrant.”

Tarrant looks up from the console, where he was contemplating if he could put the ship into lockdown mode, so he could practice manoeuvres without actually affecting anything. Except it would involve waking up Slave, and god knows how many more problems that would give them.

“Do we still have drink?” he asks. “I would have thought you'd gotten through it by now.”

“I was saving some for you,” Vila tells him, not missing a beat, and Tarrant can't say he does the same. Vila, abstaining from alcohol? Maybe he's taking this more seriously than he ought to be.

“So what, is your plan to get me plastered and have your wicked way with me?” he asks, taking the glass Vila offers him. “That seems beneath you, somehow.”

Vila scoffs. “There's not enough left to get drunk on. Believe me, if there was, don't you think I would have done it?” Tarrant laughs at that. “But you did say you wanted seduction. Satin sheets and fancy dining seem a bit beyond me at the moment, so fine wine will have to do.”

Tarrant takes a sip, and then pulls a face. “'Fine wine'?” He barely forces himself to swallow it, as opposed to spitting it back in the glass. “Can't say I think much of your taste, I'm afraid.”

“Oh, that's just bloody typical, isn't it?” Vila asks, catching him off guard. “I go to all this trouble to get you wine, and you complain about the vintage. I meant what I said about you being a princess, you know.”

Tarrant's mouth drops open a second. He feels himself flushing, stupidly. “Sorry,” he murmurs. He thought he left all that behind long ago – being the son of a Federation war hero, expected to follow in his footsteps; his rapid rise through the Space Command ranks, to his classmates' jealous stares; the family friends on the Federation high council. He doesn't like the thought it shines through him so clearly, even now.

He takes another sip. He grimaces, but the taste isn't so bad, not once you have time to get used to the short, sharp burst of acidity.

“Oh, don't worry about it.” He catches Vila's eye, who seems slightly puzzled, almost concerned by his reaction. Of course, Tarrant isn't a man who apologises easily – to proud for that. The last time he apologised to Vila, he had threatened to either abandon or murder him (he didn't _mean_ it, but Vila wasn't to know that), and not liking the wine he's given is considerably less of an offense then that.

Vila grins. “You know, if the taste bothers you that much, I can think of something else I could put in your mouth...”

Tarrant laughs. Indeed, Vila's flirting lacks a certain degree of subtlety, but he was right before, Tarrant doesn't care much for subtlety. “Really now?” he asks, leaning in close, so his breath caresses Vila's cheek.

“Mm, though I can't guarantee you'll like the taste of it any more...”

Something hot prickles beneath his skin, and Tarrant finds he's started to stroke just above Vila's hipbone. He's not touching anything particularly suggestive, but still it makes him stop. _I thought you were only flirting back because you were bored, and because you wanted to see how far he'd go to get you. Don't you think you're taking it a bit far?_

Embarrassed, Tarrant stops, pushing his glass back on Vila without looking him in the eye. “I think I've had enough,” he says.

“What? You've had about two sips,” Vila tells him, which, yes, he knows. “You might as well finish your glass. Else I'll just drink it for you.”

“Yes, well, we've not all built up your level of tolerance, have we Vila?” he asks, resuming his seat in the pilot's year. “You're not trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me, are you? Shame on you.”

He smiles to indicate he's not actually accusing Vila of anything, but apparently it's not that convincing. He just eyes Tarrant curiously. “You know, I think I know why you graduated top of your class,” he says. “Everyone else was too busy trying to figure you out, they never got any time to study.”

* * *

They still have to sleep, even if they're stuck in quarantine where time passes even more strangely than it does on Xenon base. Sleep is a guaranteed respite from their all consuming boredom, and as such, Tarrant is rather annoyed to hear a rapping at the door, keeping him from it.

“Vila,” he answers, as if it could be anyone else. “What is it, is something wrong?” _And if not, why are you bothering me?_

Vila hesitates, which tells him it's probably not an emergency. Vila isn't the type to freeze up when his life is on the line. “I can't sleep,” he says.

Tarrant frowns. Sleeping is one of those things Vila is usually remarkably good at – even when he shouldn't be, such as when he's meant to be manning the teleport for them. “Why not?” he asks.

Vila shrugs, and Tarrant assumes he's about to be told how the hell would I know? “Well, there's no booze left,” he says. “I gave the last of it to you, remember?”

That only makes Tarrant frown deeper. Yes, he knows Vila is – well, a drunk, there's no kinder word for it – but the thought he needs alcohol to do something as basic as sleep, that makes him very uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable indeed.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks, being as gentle as he can – admittedly, it doesn't come naturally to him, at least not with Vila, but he reminds himself that even Vila can be vulnerable sometimes.

“Let me stay in your room tonight?” Tarrant's eyebrows jump up in surprise. _Oh, is that all he wants?_ He feels almost tricked. He's about to make another remark about Vila's lack of subtlety when he continues: “Just to sleep, honest. Won't try a thing. Only, it might be easier to nod off if I'm not alone, that's all.”

Tarrant chews on his tongue. _Alright, what does he want?_ Is this just Vila conning a way into his bed, and from that he reckons he can get into his pants? Or does he genuinely think that being in Tarrant's room will make it easier for him to sleep? Given what their relationship is usually like, Tarrant doesn't see why being in the same room as him would make Vila more comfortable, but maybe...

In any case, it's not like he has good cause to refuse. Scorpio only has two small sleeping quarters, as well as the bed on the flight deck. Whenever they have to journey somewhere for multiple days he and Vila share one room, Dayna and Soolin take the other, and Avon sleeps in the bed on deck, when he sleeps at all (Tarrant took a certain delight in lying on that bunk when they first headed off on this journey, knowing Avon wasn't there to stop him). He can't pretend this is anything strange or unusual.

“Alright, come in,” he says, and is slightly nonplussed when Vila immediately crawls between the sheets of the other bed, curling up against the pillow. Apparently he was being entirely honest about only wanting to sleep. Tarrant knows he shouldn't be annoyed by that.

He sighs and gets back into his bed, trying to ignore the sound of Vila's breathing across the room. Is he really asleep? If he had such a problem, you'd think it'd take longer than that, wouldn't you? Of course, the room is small, so Vila isn't actually very far away from him; a metre and a half, at most. It would be easy enough for Tarrant to crawl over to his side of the room and–

_No,_ he tells himself off, ignoring the surge of warmth headed south in his body. That would be giving in, losing a game he doesn't care to, not yet.

Tarrant pulls the sheets up over his head and forces himself into a restless, fitful sleep. When he wakes in the night-dark morning it's to the sound of Vila's breezy snores, and an erection pulsing hard against his belly. He bites his lip as he reaches down to take himself in hand. So long as he's quiet, Vila need never know.  


* * *

“Damn.”

Vila sticks his head up to where Tarrant is poking at something or other, because Tarrant can't bear staying still for five seconds. “What is it, what's wrong?”

Tarrant sighs. “Auxillary water supply's backed up.”

“What?” Vila starts to panic a bit. “That doesn't mean we're going to die of thirst, are we? Because that would be a hell of an ending to all this–”

"No, Vila, that's the primary water supply. We should have enough to drink.” _Oh._ Feeling slightly embarrassed, Vila decides to let Tarrant elaborate before saying anything else. “Washing and cleaning, however, could be an issue. We should be able to fix it, eventually, but until then we probably ought to–”

“Conserve our supply.” Vila ponders. He hasn't been as pushy with Tarrant since he slept in his room (which was only two days ago, but it seems that time moves slower when you're trapped in quarantine). Maybe that made him feel vulnerable, maybe he thought he shouldn't be playing this game if Tarrant was willing to take pity on him when he needed it.

Still, nothing's changed. He still wants to sleep with Tarrant, and he knows that, no matter how much he plays otherwise. Tarrant wants to sleep with him. So...

“Does that mean, we ought to be sharing our showers?” he asks, grinning again. “You know, for efficiency's sake.”

A pause, and then Tarrant chuckles. “I don't suppose I can blame this all on you, then?” he looks back over his shoulder to ask. “You haven't sabotaged the system to make me get naked around you?”

Vila shakes his head. “Nah, I'm just lucky. Very, very lucky.”  


* * *

Tarrant sighs, clad in only his underwear, looking at the water plunging onto the ground below. He barely fits in Scorpio's cramped, utilitarian shower at the best of times, he's not sure how the both of them are going to manage it.

“You know, we're not going to save much water if you just stand there staring.”

He swallows hard. That's right, his reticence shouldn't waste any more of what they're meant to be conserving. “Right.” Hurriedly he strips off his last piece of clothing and follows Vila into the shower. It's not like he hasn't seen other men naked while showering before – at the FSA the shower rooms were communal, you could hardly avoid seeing, and Tarrant thought that experience would have dulled the eroticism of simply seeing naked men into nothing.

Granted, most of his classmates at the FSA weren't openly, actively trying to seduce him, and there was usually more than a few inches between them, too.

Still, he has no choice but to stand inches apart from Vila if he wants them both to get clean. He can feel the body heat warming up the cool water (Scorpio's water never gets above lukewarm, which Tarrant has gotten used to, but Vila really hasn't – he can see him flinching). He tries not to let that heat settle under his skin.

He's significantly taller than Vila, so it would be easy enough to just stare above his head while they do this, pretend he isn't here. But he can't do that. Instead his gaze slips downward, examining Vila's naked body as the water clings to it. He's not necessarily that impressive – he's a little flabby around his middle, as you might expect from a thirty-something man whose diet primarily consists of adrenalin and soma. Still, his cock can't be faulted – for such a small man it seems disproportionately hefty. Tarrant is a little jealous.

Blood starts pooling in his groin and he curses. If he gets an erection here, Vila will definitely see it. Immediately he turns around – which might not be his best thought-through plan, he soon realises.

“Are you sure it's a good idea to go showing me what I can't have?”

Tarrant stops. Right, he's put himself in a particularly vulnerable position here. Vila probably learned better than that in prison showers. If Vila gets an erection, he'll definitely know it – between how well-endowed the man turns out to be and how close together they're standing, it'll probably push right against him, and he's not sure he wants to know how either of them would react to that.

Part of him thinks he should turn back around and part of him wants to stay exactly where he is, but turn back around he does. “Probably not,” he says. “I ought to keep an eye on you. Make sure you're not taking any liberties.”

Vila raises an eyebrow. “Should I keep my eyes closed then? Make sure my gaze isn't violating your precious skin?”

Tarrant grins. “Oh, you can look, but you can't touch.”

He's sure if Vila wanted to touch him, Tarrant wouldn't see it coming beforehand, but he's sure Vila won't do it without his express permission – that would be against the rules.

“Right.” Vila is starting to look a bit annoyed with him, but he reaches for the soap without protest, lathering himself thoroughly. “Need it?” He offers it to Tarrant. Tarrant is midly surprised Vila doesn't offer to soap him up himself – that might be more efficient, but he's not going to take things that far. He nods and takes the soap in hand.

He drags the soap across his body slowly, much more slowly than he needs to. _Stop teasing him_ , he thinks, but by now he can't help it – it's just habit. He gasps when he inevitably slides the soap across his groin. He's fully hard by now, and he's sure Vila must have noticed. “Physiological reaction,” he answers the question that hasn't been asked. “Nothing to do with you. After all, I am young.”

“Oh, of course,” Vila drawls, sarcastic as anything, as Tarrant starts to massage the soap in – as he takes his cock in hand and starts to stroke it, but stubbornly refuses to acknowledge that's what he's doing. “You know, I think I know why you're doing this.”

He gasps as the pleasure creeps up on him much too quickly. “What do you mean?”

“Why you can't just admit you want to fuck me as much as I want to fuck you, so we can get on with it. Why we're still playing this stupid bloody game,” Vila tells him, like it's obvious ( _because it is_ , Tarrant thinks, unhelpfully). “It's not just because you hate losing, like I first thought. And it's not because you're some blushing virgin and you're afraid I'll hurt you. It's not even because you think you're too good for me! No...”

Out of nowhere Vila takes a step closer, which surprises Tarrant, who didn't realise they could get much closer.

“...It's because, you're afraid you're going to like it too much, aren't you? You're going to want more. That'll change everything back on base, won't it? You won't be able to treat me like a disposable halfwit anymore, not if I'm the only one giving you the fucking you need. 'Vila, I'm sorry, I didn't mean you were a drunken lout with all the brains of stunned amoeba – now please put your cock in me?' You can imagine that, can't you?”

“Vila,” Tarrant gasps, his hand tightening around his member. Yes, he can imagine it. “Shut up.”

“Hey, you told me I could look, not touch. You didn't say anything about speaking, so I presume that's still allowed.” Vila grins.

Tarrant bites his lip not to whimper. He doesn't trust himself to give an answer, and so he just stands there under the shower, wasting time and wasting water, ignoring his own hand working on his cock until–

Until Vila sighs. “Well, I think I'm clean.”

He doesn't get to process that before Vila's hopped out of the shower and is turning off the water – no, not the water, the warm water (lukewarm, anyway), leaving Tarrant standing under a space-cold torrent. He shrieks. “Vila!”

Vila laughs as he switches the other tap off, leaving Tarrant to shiver as the chill settles into his bones, arousal killed stone-dead in a second. “What? Well, if I'm not getting off in there, it's hardly fair you should be, is it?”

Tarrant grits his teeth. He's still annoyed, but he can't escape the lingering thought that Vila has a point. “Fine then,” he mutters, sullenly reaching for a towel, wrapping it around his waist to hide his now-soft cock. He glance down at Vila, and yes, he's still aroused – partly, anyway – but hell if Tarrant is going to do anything about it now. Maybe I'm not the only one too hung up on winning. “We'll just pretend that never happened, shall we?”

That, Vila simply shrugs at. “I mean, I assume that was your plan all along.”  


* * *

“You know, for all my attempts at seducing you, I haven't tried the most obvious trick.”

“And what's that then?” Tarrant asks, only partly paying attention, keeping his eyes on the console in front of him, hoping it will soon tell him that their water supplies are back to normal.

Vila tenses his fingers against his thigh. Alright, he acknowledges he's taking a risk here – which isn't something that comes naturally to him, not like Tarrant – but this quarantine can't last forever, and he's not willing to leave without getting what he set out for. He said he could unlock anything and he meant it.

“This.”

He gets to his feet, approaching Tarrant from behind. He sneaks his hand beneath the other man's jaw. He pulls Tarrant's face upward, and Vila can tell Tarrant is just about to ask what he thinks he's doing before he leans down and kisses him, hard.

The angle is awkward, but Tarrant might run if Vila approached him head-on. There's a moment's pause, and then Tarrant starts kissing him back, body relaxing into the seat below. _See, why can't he just let me make him feel nice? Not like he's got anything better to do._

Vila is good at this, he's happy to say. He's pulled off enough cons that require being very careful with his tongue after all, and the principle here is much the same. Tarrant, being Tarrant, kisses like it's a battle, tongue darting forth with reckless abandon, seeking an enemy to combat. Vila has to soothe his military heart, sucking on his lip so sweetly that Tarrant surrenders to it, moaning as he lets Vila take over the territory. _You're already conquered, Tarrant, and you don't even realise._

When they break for air Tarrant is smiling at him, upside-down. It's rather dizzying. “Alright, Vila, I've let you kiss me,” he says. “What makes you think I'll let you do anything else?”

Vila shrugs. “Call it a hunch.”

They kiss again and Tarrant is even more eager this time, leaning up so his lips will find Vila's sooner. Still, he's going to do his neck in if they stay in this position long, so he pulls away again so he can move to Tarrant's side, and Tarrant spins his chair around to join him. When their mouths meet again he ends up climbing into Tarrant's lap – he's not as skinny as Tarrant, but he's considerably shorter, so the weight balances out, more or less.

As their kiss deepens, as he cradles Tarrant's jaw and pulls his curly hair, he feels something hot and firm swelling against him. _Ah, there we go._ Tarrant's young body gives him some advantages after all – he can't hide much. “Vila,” Tarrant gasps as Vila moves to nuzzle beneath his earlobe. His fingers find Vila's hip and grasp it punishingly. “We should – we should–” _stop_ , he's sure he's about to be told. In truth, this is further than he was expecting to get today anyway. If Tarrant wasn't ready to fuck him while sharing a naked shower with him, he probably won't be after three kisses. “We should find a bed.”

Oh. Vila stops to blink at him, After all, even with Tarrant's apparently remarkable aptitude for teasing there's no misinterpreting what that means, and it's probably worth acknowledging. After a sceond, Vila scoffs. “What, and give you time to change your mind? No. It's more cramped in our rooms than it is here, anyway.”

Tarrant gives him a shuddery sigh as Vila returns to leaving wet kisses beneath his jaw. “W-we can use that one,” he says, nodding toward the bunk on the flight deck. “I just don't want button imprints in my skin, that's all.”

Vila pauses. Well this is proving remarkably easy. “Uh. Alright then,” he says, because if Tarrant is in such a mood to give in he's not going to spoil it by getting picky about the location.

He has to back off for a moment though, so Tarrant can get up and head toward the bunk. He gives Vila a look and, for a second, Vila is absolutely convinced he's about to run for it. But he doesn't. He does exactly what he said, heads for the bed in the corner of the room, and when his back lands on it with a satisfying thud he lets out a laugh.

Vila frowns, crawling on top of him eagerly. “What are you laughing at, then?” he asks, one knee either side of Tarrant's hips.

“I was just thinking,” Tarrant says, wriggling a litle underneath him, “this is Avon's bed.”

Vila's eyebrows fly up in alarm. “I didn't think of that.” After a few seconds weighing the facts, he concludes: “well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?”

Tarrant grins. “You seem to think I could resist telling him.”

“You better!” Vila can't believe him. “I'm not getting myself killed just so you can stick it to him one more time.”

Biting his lip, Tarrant eyes him up and down. “Well, you'd better find some way of keeping me quiet then, mustn't you?” Oh. Right. Vila's fear dissipates as he remembers what it is they're meant to be doing on this bed, how hard he's been gunning for it for days, and regardless of what Avon might do to him later he cannot bring himself to pass up the opportunity now.

He winds his hands through Tarrant's hair again, pulls him into another kiss, low groans echoing through his mouth as Tarrant's body drives up toward his own. Deftly as he can manage, he turns to undoing buttons and sliding across clothing, and sure enough Tarrant is half-naked before he even knows it. Vila said he was good at this, didn't he?

Tarrant's tugging at his own clothing is considerably less elegant, there are a few tears before Vila takes it off himself so it can't be damaged anymore, but still the job gets done, sure enough they are writhing against each other on Avon's bloody bed, and Vila doesn't even mind that he's got all his clothes off while Tarrant hasn't. Tarrant, he just knows, is dying for Vila to fuck him.

_All's well that ends well_ , thinks Vila, running hand over the smooth skin of Tarrant's chest. He is, undeniably, very handsome, and it would be a shame not to appreciate that while he has the chance. Tarrant would probably never forgive him.

He thinks that, anyway, but Tarrant soon starts to squirm impatiently underneath him. “Vila, you're not considering getting on with it at any point, are you?”

_Oh. Of course. He makes me wait forever, but can't hold out five minutes himself. Typical._ “Not a chance,” Vila tells him. “Not after how long you've been teasing me. You want it, Tarrant, you're going to have to earn it.”

Tarrant opens his mouth as if to protest, but Vila kisses him before he can. He half-wonders if he's pushing too far, if getting some payback for what a tease Tarrant's been is going to put him off the whole idea – or at least, make him insist they're doing this the wrong way round, on having Vila on his back beneath him, on being in control, because that's the way things ought to be.

But he doubts it. It was implicit to the rules of their little game that if Tarrant lost, he'd be giving up his arse in forfeit, and he lost, fair and square. Tarrant's got his flaws but he's not a sore loser.

Tarrant groans as Vila returns to sucking on his neck, not being as careful not to leave a mark as he probably ought to be, one hand playing gingerly with the button of Tarrant's trousers. “That's why I couldn't say yes, you know,” he says, breathless, hips shifting side to side. “I thought – you might reject me. It seemed like the perfect revenge. To get me to this state, to make me admit I want you, need you, all but beg for you – and then to say no.”

Vila pauses, pulling up to look at him skeptically. “You know, I'm really not the type to pass up a perfectly good fuck just to prove a point.”

Tarrant chuckles. “Maybe not, but I am.”

“I gathered that.” Vila sighs. He's pretty sure Tarrant is manipulating him with this calculated show of vulnerability, but frankly, he's getting impatient too. He kisses him again and pushes his legs in the air so he can slowly pull the trousers off, groaning slightly at the sight of long, pale legs underneath them. “Now look at those,” he murmurs. He's always liked legs, and Tarrant has a lot of leg to like.

He gets a shaky gasp from Tarrant's mouth as he swipes his tongue firmly up his inner thigh, neatly avoiding his pelvis to nip at his hipbone instead. “ _Vila_.” Tarrant says it halfway between a plea and a command, but the effect is much the same either way.

He pulls back up, taking a small, clear tube from the breast pocket of the shirt he threw on the ground. Tarrant sits up on the elbows his shirt is hanging off, and frowns at him. “Do you just carry that around?”

Vila shrugs. “Well I've been trying to fuck you for days. Might as well be prepared for you to let me, right?” Tarrant seems to accept the logic of this, lying back down with a sigh. Vila grins. “That's right. You lie back, spread those pretty legs of yours as wide as you can, and try to relax.”

The bed's not actually wide enough for Tarrant to spread his legs very far, but he can fold his knees and push them in the air, so that helps. Vila slicks up two of his fingers efficiently, circling Tarrant's rim to measure just how ready he is. He feels tense. Very tense. Tense enough to give Vila pause.

“Er, Tarrant,” he asks, nervous. “You have done this before, right?”

Maybe he should have thought of that earlier. It takes Tarrant much too long to answer. So that's a no then. “Don't worry, I'm not some blushing virgin you have to take care of. I've been with other men, several times. I just haven't... but I'm not afraid of it. I can take anything you dish out.”

Vila is tempted to roll his eyes. Trust Tarrant to insist he can cope with anything, even when he has no idea what he's about to get himself into. He's sure that, were the roles reversed, Tarrant would insist on being infinitely careful with him, on roses and champagne, all that. It's his way. Still, Vila wouldn't knock back the champagne.

Maybe this is a sign he ought to stop, because he doesn't really know what he's getting into here either, but he's been wanting it for days and Tarrant did say he was worried Vila might reject him out of spite. Doing so now, after coming this far, even if it's not out of spite seems a bit on the cruel side. Besides, it's not like he's actually going to hurt Tarrant, right?

“Right then,” he concludes more cheerfully than he really feels, for once bothering to pretend he's not scared. “But relax anyway, right? You know how good I am with my hands. Don't worry, I can make this _very_ good for you.”

Tarrant doesn't answer him, but he does soften a bit under Vila's firm touch, softly shuddering as Vila circles his tight hole one, twice. _Ah, there we go._ See, Vila can tell when a lock is coming undone.

Before long Tarrant is moaning at every touch of his fingers, cock rosy-pink and bobbing against his stomach, which Vila takes as a good enough sign that he should try putting one inside. Still, he pours a little more lube on them first, just in case. Tarrant gasps as Vila slips just his very fingertip inside him, feeling very hot and tight in there indeed.

“Alright?” Tarrant's nod is curt and brisk, so Vila decides to wait a little for Tarrant's hole to relax its grip before he pushes in any further. With his spare hand he gives his own hard cock a quick, reassuring squeeze. He knows he has to be patient, give Tarrant time to loosen up, if he wants to get what he's been aiming for out of this, but that doesn't make it easy.

Tarrant lets out a long, low moan as Vila's finger slowly moves deeper into him, hips thrusting back to meet it. Oh thank god. “There we go,” he says, watching as his first knuckle disappears. “Now don't worry, somewhere around here–”

“Ah!” Tarrant gasps as Vila crooks his finger knowingly, finding the spot that makes him clench tight again – not in fear, but in greed. He looks a little shocked by this, and Vila meets his eye.

“Thought you might like that,” he says, and Tarrant, after a second, grins at him.

“I'd like it more if you did it again.”

Well Vila doesn't need to be told twice. He hasn't necessarily done this specifically that many times, but he's good with his hands, and so he bends and strokes until he knows he's got the right spot locked down, until Tarrant starts to pant and writhe against the sheets, keening against this shallow touch, curly hair getting frazzled and knotted.

He slots in two fingers without asking. He'll be told if it's too much. Tarrant greets him with one hell of a moan, the sort that makes him grateful they are all alone on this ship actually, because if anyone heard that it'd be very embarrassing (for Tarrant, at least; Vila thinks he could take some pride in having heard him make that sound). He fucks Tarrant with his two fingers, watching carefully how he reacts; his cock bounces and leaks against his belly, and maybe he should try touching that next but he hasn't been asked to, and he doesn't feel like it, not yet.

Tarrant gets noisier and needier as Vila works him toward the brink, until his thighs tighten around Vila's waist and he cries out: “wait, stop!”

Vila stops. “Are you alright?” He removes his fingers with a nervous dread settling in his stomach. He wasn't going too hard, was he? And if he was, how much is Tarrant going to kill him?

“Yes.” Tarrant chuckles, which leaves him even more confused. “But you'd better get inside me soon.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He didn't think he'd fingered Tarrant anywhere near enough yet. “What, why?”

Tarrant grins at him. “Because if you don't, I'll come before you get your chance.”

Vila blinks at him a second, slowly breaking into a grin himself. He does like that, huh? “Oh really?”

He's answered with a roll of the eyes. “Don't gloat, Vila, it doesn't suit you.”

“Like you can talk.” Vila takes himself in hand, presses himself against Tarrant's slicked entrance, making him shiver and groan in expectation. “So, you do want it then?” he asks, as casually as he can. “Want it now? Want it hard? Want it from me?”

“Well, I've never been patient.”

He groans as he slides in. _God, he's tight_. Alright, maybe Tarrant isn't technically a virgin, but under the circumstances he's damn close. Vila's allowed to get a bit of an extra kick from that, right? It's not hurting anyone.

Tarrant tenses up against him, nails digging into the sheets below – presumably, he doesn't want Vila to know if he's in any pain. Vila pulls back a little, before he's more than halfway in, but then those thighs come up to trap his waist and keep him still. “Don't stop,” Tarrant insists. “Deeper.”

Maybe Vila ought to refuse, but he really doesn't want to. He keeps pushing in, until he's buried right against the cheeks of Tarrant's arse, and oh yes, that's good. He strongly suspects it's good for the both of them. Because Tarrant is gasping for breath, eyes half-shut with bliss, squirming back and forth as he adjusts to being filled. One hand leaves the mattress and squeezes Vila's shoulder, then he gives a small, subtle nod.

So Vila starts to move, giving slow, deep thrusts that leave him groaning and Tarrant's legs trembling around his waist. It's a tricky balance, going so he's not tearing his crewmate in two but also, Tarrant doesn't feel like he's being held out on, but with every movement Tarrant's hole seems to relax around him, even if the rest of his body is only clinging harder, and that helps.

Before long he's built up a nice pace, musical, almost, gasps and sighs forming a catchy little rhythm, measured by the steady drumbeat of his balls slapping against Tarrant's arse, and he feels the vibrations ripple through him. Tarrant's nails scramble at his shoulder as he throws head back, eyes wedged shut and back arching off the mattress dramatically. “Vila, Vila!” he cries out, and soon Vila feels a hand – the one Tarrant doesn't have drawing his blood – grab his own.

Tarrant tugs and pulls, and Vila soon realises the younger man is trying to get him to touch his cock. Oh. Well of course; that orgasm they barely averted before can't be far off now.

Still, Vila holds back. “No.”

With a protesting noise, Tarrant opens his eyes. Vila grins at him. “I told you, you've got to earn it. And I don't think you have yet, not before I'm done with you.”

Tarrant pouts at him. “Whatever happened to treating me like a princess?”

“Oh, I am.” He punctuates his statement with a sharp thrust that makes Tarrant cry out. “A spoiled, bratty, self-indulgent princess. 'Bout time you had a man of the people fuck some manners into you.”

He speeds up, feeling sure he's not going to hurt Tarrant, not anymore. Tarrant welcomes the deeper fucking eagerly, legs halfway to the ceiling, biting at Vila's neck. The hand on Vila's shoulder moves, folding through his thin dark hair. “You could at least kiss me,” Tarrant murmurs beneath his ear.

True, he could do that. So he does, leaning over to claim Tarrant's mouth with his own, relishing this decidedly uncharacteristic state of submission. That makes it easier for Tarrant to arch his back and rub his hard cock against Vila's own belly – that might be cheating, but Vila can't quite bring himself to hold it against Tarrant at the moment.

A quake settles in his back. Despite what he's said, he's not so sure how long he can last. It's been awhile, after all. So what does he do about that?

While he's distracted considering it, Tarrant seizes the opportunity he sees. Vila feels a grin against his lips, and all of a sudden he's pushed, Tarrant taking advantage of his greater height and strength to force him flat on his back, still with Vila buried balls-deep inside him.

Vila gasps at the shock and the impact. “What was that–?”

Tarrant is still grinning, his shirt finally falling from his elbows and landing on Vila's thighs before he braces his hands either side of him. He sets a pace so fast and reckless it puts Vila to shame. “You _said_ you wanted me to work for it.”

Vila moans. He should protest this sudden reversal of fortunes, but it is rather hard to concentrate when with Tarrant on top of him like that, riding him like a prize racehorse.

He notices when Tarrant's hand slides around his own cock though, and hang on, he explicitly disallowed that.

He forces himself back up on his elbows, and they end up in something of a compromise position, Tarrant sitting in his lap, legs curled around Vila's waist. If it wasn't for the adrenalin of the situation (the real stuff, not what he drinks every day) he'd probably feel very heavy. Vila knocks his hand out of the way so he can take over the stroking himself – not much point holding out if he's sure he's about to come too. With the other hand he grabs Tarrant by the back of the neck, forcing him into another kiss.

“You do like this, don't you?” he murmurs against Tarrant's lips, as Tarrant moans obscenely against his. All of a sudden, he gets hit with a strange, sober wave of melancholy. “But once we're out of here, you'll pretend it never happened, right? That's the only reason you're acting like this. Because it's a one-time deal. You'll never acknowledge that I'm anything but the useless drunk you've pegged me for, you'll never admit I made you call my name in pleasure–”

Tarrant moans, greedily canting his hips toward Vila's fist, and his cock. “Vila, _Vila_...”

“I want you to want more, you know.” Vila's sure he shouldn't tell him that, but hopefully once they're done neither of them will remember he did. “I want you to like me, or how I make you feel, at least. I want you to let me like you, and stop being such a fucking _bitch_ to me–”

With a sharp moan Tarrant suddenly spills all over his hand, taking Vila by surprise. Shit. Should have been coming. The trembling body on top of him, and the liquid evidence of Tarrant's pleasure splashing against his skin, pushes Vila over the edge. His orgasm seizes him quickly, drawing him tight as he shoots a thick load of come into Tarrant's untouched hole, and then lets him go with a deep sigh.

Afterwards they're both exhausted, collapsing onto the narrow mattress side-by-side. Cuddling is a bit awkward, given their usual relationship, but given how little room they have to move, they don't have much of a choice.

They take a good few minutes to get their breath back, and then Tarrant chuckles. “Maybe I owe you an apology,” he says, which makes Vila – now tucked securely under his right arm – look up at him curiously. _What for?_ he wonders. _That's not like him._ “After how much we built that up, I thought I might hold out a little longer. But I'm afraid it has been awhile.”

After a second, Vila smiles. He's not quite sure where this is going, but it seems promising. “What, didn't they teach you stamina at that precious FSA?”

“Of course they did!” Tarrant bristles defensively, but then he grins. “What, don't you believe me?” he rolls a little on his side. “Maybe I'll have to show you how much I have to give...”

Vila feels soft fingers brushing his hip, and is irrationally thrilled. Alright, perhaps Tarrant isn't as dedicated to this being a one-time deal as he thought. Still, he has to push him away. “Okay, but give it half an hour, will you?” he asks. “We can't all have your twenty-something refractory period.”

Tarrant pouts. “Shame.”

And Vila grins. “Well, you made me wait so long, only fair I do the same.”

* * *

Five hours later, they're still on the same bed. Vila thinks they ought to get up and clean up, but every time he even wakes up Tarrant seems to be ready and waiting for him, eager for another round – he's had Vila pinned against the mattress more than once, grinning as he moves down his body to suck his cock, explaining he's a lot more practised at that than he is at what they did earlier – and indeed, when Tarrant takes him in his mouth he seems very practised, enough to make Vila wonder just what the recruits get up to at the FSA, and how anyone finds the time for spaceflight.

Vila's never pretended to be perfect, and he's not going to try and resist the pretty twenty-something desperate to suck his cock. Not a chance of it. Still, he hopes Tarrant's youthful libido will wear off soon enough that they can clean these sheets before they have to leave, because otherwise Avon really will kill them.

He's half-asleep again, with Tarrant idly playing with his soft cock while he drifts off when a buzzing comes into their space. “Tarrant? Vila? Are you there?”

Avon. His brusque voice is like a sharp dose of reality, and he and Tarrant both eye each other in alarm, fully awake now.

They both go scrambling to answer, but Tarrant gets there first, of course. “What is it, Avon?” he asks, making Vila frown. Indeed, Avon has barely bothered to contact them over the – what, a week (it feels longer than that) – they've been stuck here. What's different now?

“We've figured out what the problem was, and solved it. It's safe for you to come down now.” Avon pauses. “Are you ready?”

Tarrant turns to Vila with a decidedly helpless look. They're both still bollock naked, and both they and the ship stink of sex. If they beamed down now, it wouldn't exactly take long to figure how they've spent their time away.

Vila coughs awkwardly. “Er, give us half an hour, will you Avon?” he asks. Tarrant sighs in relief. “We've got some stuff to sort out.”  


* * *

“So what did you do all that time anyway?” Dayna asks as they settle on the couches on Xenon base, once she's explained what did happen to the ship that left them up there so long anyway. Apparently, the Muller they flew all that way to rescue wasn't Muller at all, but his android, using them to find Orac and through him, take over the galaxy. Orac insisted on being allowed to deactivate the robot remotely before he'd let them return. “I would have thought you'd kill each other out of sheer boredom.”

Tarrant, who still isn't quite sitting straight, freezes. He gives Vila a look, and he grins.

“Oh, not much,” he says. “Played a few games.”


End file.
